New Beginnings
by Lady Etiquette
Summary: Matthew finds himself in a new situation and runs in to a familiar face. SPOILER ALERT: This fic contains S3 spoilers-do not read if you don't want to read spoilers. Thank you to Julian Fellows for creating these lovely characters.
1. Chapter 1

SPOILER ALERT: For those who do not want to read S3 spoilers please stop reading now...

I have included an A/N at the end. Thank you for reading. :)

* * *

Matthew woke up, blinking his eyes. He felt confused. He had just been in the car driving to Downton to share the news of his son's birth, and then….and then. He wondered….and then what? He furrowed his brows in concentration trying to remember. It was all so fuzzy. He recalled there had been a lorry in the road. But where had he parked the car? And what was he doing here?

He raised a hand to his eyes and rubbed them, as though it would help him see more clearly. Then he realized that he felt…perfectly fine. He looked around to find himself in a strange but ornately decorated room. He stood up slowly and studied his surroundings. "Hello?" Was he back at the hospital? "Is anyone here?" He asked in a professional but somewhat dismayed tone.

"Don't be alarmed," the familiar voice said from somewhere in the room.

Matthew stopped, his eyes looking around for the stranger. "I beg your pardon? Who said that?" He asked, trying to make out the voice. He recognized it from somewhere he was sure, but couldn't put his finger on it.

"It's alright, son. You don't have to be worried or afraid," the voice said calmly from behind him.

Matthew felt stunned and slowly looked over his shoulder and then turned around, seeing a man standing in front of him. "Father…" He breathed the word in shock as he studied the man's face.

Dr. Reginald Crawley reached a hand out and placed it on Matthew's shoulder. "Please don't be alarmed."

Matthew was astonished yet comforted to see his father. "Papa?" His voice cracked with emotion at the sight of his father and the feel of his touch. He hadn't changed in appearance, still handsome and his hair was still salt and pepper with silver and his pale blue eyes shined warmly….just like his own.

Dr. Crawley smiled and nodded. "That's right."

A smile broke out across Matthew's face. "Oh, Papa," he stepped in to his father's embrace and hugged him, wrapping his arms tightly around him. "I've missed you so very much."

"Matthew, my dear boy," his father said softly against his son's hair as he tightened his arms around him. "I've missed you, too. More than words can ever convey." His large hand patted Mathew's back affectionately. "It's alright, my boy, really it is."

Matthew pulled back and looked at his father. "Oh, Papa, I have so much to tell you!" He reached up and wiped a tear away from his eyes. What an emotional day he had had. What was happening?

"I know." Reginald said tenderly.

"I mean, besides the war and everything, I married Mary Crawley…."

"Yes, yes, I know Matthew." Reginald spoke gently and knowingly. He patted the palm of his hand gently against Matthew's cheek.

"But you see, Papa, we just had a son!" He spoke hastily with excitement; there was so much to share with his father he couldn't contain himself and didn't know where to start. "I have a son, Papa!" Matthew laughed and beamed with pride and happiness at his father. "He has our eyes!" He bubbled over with pride and jubilation.

Reginald smiled and regarded him. "I know, Matthew." One of his hands squeezed his son's shoulder. "And I am so delighted and so very happy." But there was something forlorn in his father's eyes and in his tone.

Matthew's expression changed to one of curiosity. "I don't understand. How could you know that?" He searched his father's face for an answer and then suddenly grew confused again. "How could you be here?" He glanced around again. "What's going on here?"

Reginald looked deep in to his son's eyes. "You are perfectly safe, my dear boy. I can assure you there is nothing to fear here."

Matthew stepped back and stood a moment in silence, trying to remember. "I was driving to Downton Abbey on a country road. It was a short cut." Reginald remained standing in front of him, but said nothing as Matthew re-lived the events in his head. "It was perfectly lovely weather and I was overjoyed after seeing Mary and the baby, and then I looked up and saw a lorry in the road and in a split second I…" his voice trailed off.

Reginald looked at him patiently and held his stare. "It's alright Matthew. Just take your time."

Matthew looked down at his clothing, He was wearing the same suit he had put on to see Mary in the hospital. He had taken his jacket off in the car, but now he was wearing it again. He looked around the room curiously. "But this isn't the hospital, is it?"

Reginald shook his head gently and spoke quietly. "No. I'm afraid it isn't."

Matthew took several steps back until he bumped in to the chair again and he took a seat. "Oh, dear, God." His voice was a shaky whisper as he arrived at realization. "If I'm here with you," he paused and then looked up at his father.

Reginald walked over to him and knelt down. "It's alright, Matthew. Please don't be frightened."

Matthew let a breath out. "I remember now, Papa" he said softly. "I was in a hurry to get back to Downton. I was distracted by joy. There was a truck in the road and I swerved to miss it, but loss control of the car…" His eyes pressed closed as the memory flooded back to him. His face dropped down in to his hand. "Oh, God….what have I done?" He looked back up at his father. "I didn't park the car on the road, did I?"

Reginald sighed and felt his soul shake with emotion at having his son experience this at such a young age. "No," he confirmed, "you didn't park the car."

Matthew exhaled as it all came to him. "The car went off the road, in to a ravine." He paused again to catch his breath. He reached up and touched the side of his head. "I hit my head against the dash. And then the car rolled…" He hesitated again and took a breath. ""And then I woke up sitting here." He looked at his father for answers. "Oh, Papa…Mary and the baby…"

Reginald patted Matthew's arm reassuringly. "She's alright, son. She's had the family around her, and of course your Mother has been an immense support to her having gone through similar circumstances."

"Oh, poor Mother…" his voice cracked at the thought of Isobel entirely alone—reliving another loss. Matthew let out a long breath. "…_similar circumstances_," he repeated the words almost like a lost boy. His brows turned up in worry.

"Yes, I know. It's been hard on her, but her faith, and her memories of you and the love of those around her have held her together." Reginald looked off momentarily, lost in his own thoughts of his beloved wife. "And I've been looking in on her."

"Where's Mary?" Matthew asked as he stood up again.

Reginald touched his son's elbow and led them toward a door at the far end of the room. "She's fine and so is your little boy."

Matthew looked impatient and perplexed. "How do you know all these things?"

Dr. Crawley smiled and shrugged. "Because I've been with you all of these years."

Matthew smiled at him and stopped. "All through school?"

His father chuckled. "Every pain-staking exam." He reached out and straightened his son's jacket.

"And the war?" Matthew asked already knowing the answer.

"Every time you went in to combat I was right beside you; and when you fell on the battle field, I was there, too." He sighed. "And I was there when Lavinia was so gravely ill."

Matthew's eyes widened. "You know Lavinia?"

"As a matter of fact I do. I was right there the whole time. I was in the room and met her when she was ready to meet me." He spoke kindly and endearingly.

As Matthew looked at him he realized he had always known it…he had always felt it. He looked in to his father's eyes and saw it. "You were in the car with me when it happened, weren't you?"

Reginald smiled sadly and tilted his head. "And how do you know that?"

Matthew reached up and touched his head again. "After the accident, you tried to help me. You tried to treat my wound, didn't you?" His eyes implored his father's. "Just like at the Front."

"Yes," Reginald answered softly. "I tried." He reached a hand up and brushed it comfortingly over his son's blond hair. "I love you so very much and wanted you to have more time. But as a doctor, these things are often out of my hands, no matter how much I may want it otherwise."

Matthew closed his eyes. "It was stupid of me to drive so erratically." He cursed himself. "I fought at the Front for years, for God's sake! I know how to handle myself under distraction!" He waited for his father to say something.

"You lived life to the fullest, Matthew. You were an honorable, noble, loving and happy man, and you selflessly gave so much of yourself to those around you. You should have no regrets and be more forgiving of yourself."

Matthew pulled out his handkerchief and touched it against his forehead. "Is this heaven, father?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

The room fell silent as Matthew pulled his senses together. He tucked the handkerchief back in his pocket and reached up and straightened the knot of his necktie. "Where's Mary and our son now?" His voice was drenched with concern.

Reginald smiled reassuringly. "You'll find that time is a funny thing around here, Matthew. What seems like minutes for us is much longer on Earth. And we move around in time as well. "

"I don't understand?" Matthew cocked his head.

"Well," his father began, "For you, your accident only occurred very recently. But for Mary it's been several years."

Matthew frowned in surprise. "Several _years_?"

Reginald touched his elbow again and they resumed walking toward the door. "That's right. Four to be exact. She grieved horribly, of course, in the beginning. But as time has moved on, with the support of the family and as the years have passed, she has made a life for herself at Downton quite nicely. She's a very bright woman. And her son is her whole world."

Mathew listened intently. "The baby..."

Reginald smiled. "Oh, he's a delightful boy. Just like his father."

Matthew smiled bashfully, yet proudly. "I'm so glad. I'll be so worried about them."

"That will pass, Matthew" his father assured him. "The longer you're here, your heart will find its way."

They arrived at the doorway. "What's through here?" Matthew asked. He needed to know—he wanted to know how Mary was. He felt heartbroken, and yet, oddly, he felt at peace at the same time.

"Would you like see Mary and your son?"

Matthew's face brightened. "Is that possible?"

"Yes, of course."

"Will they be able to see me? Or to speak with me?"

Reginald's expression softened. "I'm afraid not, Matthew. Just like you were never able to see me when I was with you. But remember, you said you felt my presence?"

Matthew nodded but looked crushed. "So, you're saying they can sense me, but not interact with me?"

"I'm afraid it has to work that way. Otherwise, Mary would never be able to recover."

When Matthew thought about it, he knew his father was right. If he had been able to see his father after Reginald had died, he might never have accepted his death and gone on to do other things. "My son will never know me," he muttered wistfully.

Reginald put a hand on his back. "He is your son. He is as much a part of you as he is his mother. Of course he'll know you, and Mary is seeing to it." Reginald reached out a hand to the door knob and turned it.

Bright sunlight immediately met their eyes. Matthew looked around and realized they were standing on the grounds at Downton on a spring afternoon. He smiled at how beautiful everything looked on such a glorious sunny day. His attention was distracted by a figure walking out of the French doors off the library. "Look!" he said to his father. "It's Mary!"

She looked different—a little older—yet the same. Her beautiful brown hair was cut in a shoulder-length bob that glistened in the sun. She was still elegantly slender and wore an afternoon dress and high heels. She had her hands on her hips and was looking for something, or someone, and she called out. "Matthew!"

He stopped in his tracks. "Mary?" He said to himself. He turned to look at his father. "Papa, I thought you said she couldn't see me?"

Reginald put his hands in his pockets and answered respectfully. "She can't."

She called out again, this time a little louder. "Matthew! Where are you my love?!"

Matthew wanted to run to her and for her to hear him. He took several steps in her direction. "I'm here, Mary!" He called back. He desperately wanted her to hear him. "I'm right here, darling!"

Suddenly, her eyes looked in his direction, but Matthew realized she wasn't looking at him, but rather was looking through him…passed him. He turned to look back at his father, but instead saw something else. A boy, he guessed to be around four years old, with blond hair and brilliant blue eyes, running from down the hill and carrying a ragged kite. A small dog ran along beside him, his tail wagging playfully and romping around the child.

"Here I am, Mama!" The happy child called out. He laughed and giggled as he ran.

Matthew smiled and couldn't keep from uttering the name of his son. "_Matthew_…"

Mary smiled brightly and waved at him. "Don't fall darling!"

"I won't Mama!" Young Matthew shouted back gleefully as he ran closer and closer to the big house, huffing as he hopped over tree branches and rabbit holes.

Suddenly, Matthew saw a fallen tree limb buried in the grass in the boy's path. He immediately and instinctively reached out to help his son, catching his arm and preventing his fall. The child stumbled around the limb but stayed upright. He stopped and looked up and seemed to see him. He smiled and paused as Matthew held him securely. "Thank you, sir," the child whispered warmly and appreciatively.

Matthew felt something clench inside him and he waited until the boy stood firmly again. A moment later, the boy was off once more, running toward the house. He ran up to his mother, and Mary opened her arms and wrapped them around her son engulfing him in a tight and loving hug.

Matthew stood off beside his father. Reginald put hand on his back. "Are you alright my boy?"

Matthew nodded. A moment passed before he could say anything. "I think he might have seen me. Is that possible?" He turned to look at Reginald.

"It happens sometimes; especially with children. It's quite lovely actually. I think it happened with you once or twice, but we can talk about that later."

Matthew smiled back at him and sighed. "I know I should feel terribly sad." He took a deep breath. "But somehow I feel happy. Happy that they are safe together and at Downton. And happy that he might know I am here in some way."

Mary and the little boy hugged and she kissed his rosy cheeks. "Where were you?"

The boy laughed. "Flying kites by the stream Mama!"

Mary eyed him sternly. "Matthew Crawley, you know you are not supposed to play by the stream without a grown up!"

The child looked up at her apologetically. "I know. I'm sorry." His sweet, sky blue eyes were filled with worry and guilt as they looked at his mother.

Mary relented and softened her words. "Alright then, young man, but next time ask me and we'll have someone go with you, or I'll go, alright?" She couldn't bear the thought of losing him and pulled him to a fierce hug again. "I'll always keep you safe, my little darling."

He nodded furiously and hugged her and Mary melted at his embrace.

Reginald sighed. "What a lovely boy. He's just like you at that age. Full of love and adventure and happiness."

Matthew looked on at the scene, observing his family. "Is Mary…" he paused. He didn't know how to ask but needed to know. "Has she re-married?" The only word he wanted to hear was 'no'.

"No," his father verified.

Matthew felt relieved, yet it also made him feel genuinely saddened and selfish. "She's been alone all this time?" He thought about all she would have endured. "She's too young to be alone like that."

Reginald stepped closer. "She loved you. You are her son's father. Finding love again won't come easy for her."

Matthew nodded. "Even so, she is too young to be all alone. And my…" he exhaled, "Young Matthew needs a father." He glanced back at Reginald. "Don't get me wrong, Papa. The thought of another man in their lives in unbearable to me. But I grew up with a widowed mother and without a father and I know how it feels. I can't bear the thought that Mary would be completely alone for the rest of her life, or that my son would be destined to be fatherless."

"All in good time,' Reginald assured him, "All in good time."

They stood and watched until Mary and Young Matthew walked back in to the house. The boy looked up at his mother. "Can I be called Matt? I like that name."

Mary rolled her eyes. "Absolutely not!" She said as they walked hand in hand in to the house, closing the doors behind them.

Matthew chuckled and finally knew it was time to leave. "Will I ever be able to come back and visit them?" His innocent and earnest eyes implored his father.

Reginald put an arm around his son. "Yes, of course, dear lad, any time you would like; anytime at all. Just as I have always been with you. In fact I think you'll be back very soon."

He smiled. "Good. I'm so glad. Thank you for bringing me here." He looked around them and then back at Reginald. "Is this how it works for everyone when they…" he struggled for the word, "when we die?"

"Not everyone, no," Reginald replied matter of factly. "Just those who had a true and giving heart in life." He patted Matthew's back. "Like you, and Lavinia and Sybil."

Matthew smiled back at his father. "Will you show me the way Papa?"

Reginald Crawley put his hand on his son's elbow, "Of course, my son. I have so much to show you." And together they walked up the hill toward the afternoon sun. As the glow of the sun warmed and revived him, Matthew felt the sorrow thaw from his soul; and in its place he was filled with light and peace, and the notion that a new and bigger adventure was just beginning.

* * *

**A/N ** I hope I haven't offended anyone by writing this. I know it's awfullly soon to write one of these, but it felt cathartic. I always believed the rumors that Dan Stevens wanted to leave the series, but to be honest, I never really thought Fellows would kill the character of Matthew Crawley. I thought he might write him out peripherally, for business abroad, a return of his injury, or some such thing (although, I did feel there was ample forshadowing in both dialogue and action to anticipate the character death...not to mention the mournful music score for the trailer, We Had All The Time In The World) I also think 3 series would have been a reasonable spot to end DA and could have ended the show with a CS finale of M/M bliss in the maternity ward holding their son. Frankly, I think Julian Fellows is demonstrating a lack of creativity or writing skill by simply killing all of his primary characters, one after the other. Although DA didn't revolve around Matthew, I always felt the character was the heart of the series...he bridged the class divide and brought so much to the storyline of aristocracy-meets-upper-middle class-heir, not to mentinon the love story. It was such fun falling in love with them as they fell in love. *sighs* So this story came to me and it seemed right. I truly wish Dan Stevens all the best and thank him for bringing to life such a wonderful character. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N** Ok, I know I only meant NB to be a one chapter, one off fic; but this second installment "called" to me. :) I felt we needed to see how Mary's new beginning has been going. (Reminder: This story has spoilers for the S3 Christmas Special.)

* * *

Matthew walked down the hill toward the house, his suit jacket casually draped over one arm. The sun was shining, warming him through, and he glanced around enjoying the freedom of his new station in the world. No one could see or hear him, so he could forego his jacket or even his necktie. But being at Downton again he felt a need to stick to his proprieties today, just in case, so his tie was neatly knotted.

Just as he was stepping around a tree stump, a voice caught his attention. "Help!" Matthew stopped and looked across the grounds. It was a child's voice. He covered his eyes from the sun and looked in the direction of the boy's cry, which he was certain was his son's.

"Help! Over here!"

Matthew ran across the field, running toward the helpless pleas coming from an old apple tree. Looking up in to the tree he saw the little blond boy tangled in the upper branches, tightly gripping the trunk. "Oh, my," he breathed out. "I say, son, can you hear me up there?"

Young Matthew looked around and then down at the ground. "Yes sir!"

Matthew felt odd—for some reason the child could see and hear him, whereas adults could not. It was an interesting phenomenon, but one he was delighted about-truly a gift to interact with his son. "Here," he said in a friendly manner as he pulled himself up on to the lower branches. "Let me help you. I think I can help you climb down."

The boy huffed. "Can you climb up and get me, sir?"

Matthew smiled. "Yes, but then you wouldn't learn how to find your way down, now would you?"

Looking downward, the child gripped the tree even tighter. "No, sir," he replied timidly.

"Alright, then," Matthew started, "Move your left foot and put it on the branch just below you."

The boy glanced down at the branch and looked back at Matthew in fear, breathlessly gripping the tree trunk. "I can't!"

Matthew's eyes softened. "Yes, I think you can, dear lad. I'm right here and I'll catch you if you stumble, but I know that won't happen. Now go on…try to put your foot on that lower branch. Come on now!"

The little boy slowly moved his left leg, his foot frantically feeling around for the branch in question. His foot found purchase on the branch and his face brightened. "I think I did it!"

"Yes, yes!" Matthew said encouragingly. "Well done! Now slide your arms down the trunk, and move your other leg down on to the same branch."

The boy did as he was told, gradually climbing his way back down the tree, one branch after another, until he was on the limb just above Matthew's head. "You still want me to lift you down? Or do you think you can make it?"

The boy breathed excitedly. "I can do it! I know I can do it!"

Matthew stood back as the child leapt from the lower branch on to the soft grassy Earth. He immediately popped back up beaming at Matthew. "I did it! I did it!" His feet danced a little dance of glee.

Matthew bent over, his palms on his knees and ruffled the child's hair. "You most certainly did; well done indeed!" Matthew felt delight at his son's safety and excitement.

The boy clapped his hands and looked up at him. "Thank you very much, sir!"

"Not at all, little chap, not at all! Besides, you did all the work!"

The boy shot his hand out and looked up at him. "I'm Matt. Matt Crawley. I'm four and a half." He opened up his hand wiggling four fingers and his thumb to make his point.

Matthew grinned and shook his hand. "How do you do, Master Matt Crawley."

Matt shook his hand. "What's your name?"

Matthew felt somewhat stumped. He wasn't sure he should reveal his name or not, but decided his first name couldn't hurt. "My name is Matthew."

"Really?" Matt's expression was open in surprise as he pointed a finger at his chest. "So is mine!" He bounced enthusiastically. "You won't tell my mother about the tree will you?" His expression filled with angst. "She's gets very cross if I climb trees."

"What? No tree climbing?" He looked at the child curiously. "I think climbing trees is how little boys gain strength of body and character. That is, as long as they are little trees of course."

Matt shook his head. "Mother says I'm too little." His brows frowned and he pressed his lips together in a familiar defiant pout. "But I'm not a little boy! I can do it!"

Matthew patted the boy's shoulder. "What were you doing up there in the first place?"

"I like apples and was trying to pick one. The good ones are all at the top. Then I remembered that today is my mum's birthday, so I was trying to pick apple blossoms for her."

Matthew stopped and thought out loud. "Ah…then today is September fifth."

Matt nodded happily. "That's right. I wanted to give her flowers and saw the apple blossoms." His head hung in frustration. "But they all fell out of my hands when I got stuck."

Matthew saw a sad little pile of wilted apple blossoms beneath the tree. "You know," he started, "I happen to know you mother's favorite flower. Yellow roses."

Matt looked up at him curiously. "How did you know that?"

Matthew answered slightly honestly, "I met her once many years ago at the Downton flower show and she mentioned it." He leaned his palms down on his knees again, looking at Matt. "And I know precisely where we can find them on the estate!"

* * *

Mary buttoned up the last button of her white blouse and tucked it in to her black skirt. Her wardrobe, like her life, was colorless. Since her husband's death four years earlier, her whole world became her son and Downton, so her uniform pragmatically suited her roles as mother and manageress.

Matthew sat silently in a chair by the window, his arms folded across his chest, completely invisible to her. He admired her slender figure but was surprised by her appearance. Her clothes were a stark contrast to what he remembered. She was well dressed, but lived in ecclesiastic black and white. He watched as Mary sat down at her vanity which he noted had exactly three objects on top of it: A mirror, a comb and a small dish for hair pins. Gone were the perfume bottles, face powder, lipstick, cream jars and jewelry box that she once used. Mary had buried her allure when she buried him. She no longer had anyone to dress for in that way, and had no desire to attract unwanted attention. As she pulled her hair to one side and fastened a barrette, he saw that she wore her wedding rings but no other jewelry. Her transformation was complete—a Mother Superior to Downton and its heir.

Mary lowered her hands in to her lap and assessed her reflection with resignation. The truth was, as much as she was still committed to Matthew and their son, she had become homesick for things from her previous life. Like dressing up for parties, dancing, lingerie and feeling beautiful. She still decorated herself for special occasions, and of course, as a widow, male relatives and the husbands of friends were sweetly obliged to dance with her. But it wasn't the same as having someone who _wanted_ to dance with her.

She didn't long for the act of physical relations, but missed making love—having a man comfort her in his arms at the end of a long day and make her laugh; someone who kissed her deeply and would give her pleasure out of love and endearment; or the look across a crowded dinner table and knowing he couldn't wait to run his hands and mouth over the secrets of her body; and finding presents from him under her pillow.

She sighed and gently pulled one of the vanity drawers open. Nestled inside were the perfume bottles she put away so long ago. Reluctantly, she pulled one out and ran a fingertip over its label and gingerly removed the stopper. She held the bottle under her nose and breathed in deeply, transported by the wonderful fragrance…a decidedly feminine and sensual aroma.

"_Go ahead, Mary"_…Matthew willed her. "_It's alright, darling."_

Mary eyed the bottle and gently pulled out the stopper. She dabbed it on her wrist and raised it to her nose and inhaled, and it made her smile with a thousand memories.

…and Matthew smiled, too.

Among the perfume bottles she found the letter that accompanied Matthew's last will and testament, which he had written during her pregnancy to update their affairs. She loved the look of his hand-written script and touched her nose to the monogrammed stationary, which was still faintly scented with his after shave. It's edges were tattered from so many readings. She could recite it by heart but read it again as she had done every day for the past four years:

_My Dearest, Darling Mary ~_

_All that I am, and all that I have, belongs to you and our children. Words alone cannot convey how profoundly happy you have made me, nor adequately measure the honor it bestows upon me to be your husband. I hope you are reading this letter at the end of our long and happy journey together. However, should fate interrupt, and you hold this letter at the sun-up of our life, it is my sincerest hope that you cherish our memories, but not live a life abbreviated by them. A life half full, is a life half lived, my darling. _

_If I drew you a picture of my heart it would be that you have a complete and happy life, filled with endless summer days; that you share unlimited joy with our children and our children's children; and embrace the possibility for new love worthy of the treasure that I know exists within your heart. _

_Your Loving Husband,_

_Matthew_

"Mary?"

Isobel's voice called from the doorway and pulled Mary out of her daydream. "Yes?" she said as she quickly closed the letter and the perfume bottle and tucked them back in the drawer. She turned around to look at her mother-in-law.

Matthew smiled brightly at the sight of his mother. "_Ma-ma!"_ he breathed out. He was amazed at how she never changed.

Isobel smiled as she walked over and stood by the vanity. "How's the birthday girl today?"

Mary was genuinely happy to see her. "Very well, thank you."

Isobel smiled down at her. "Are you looking forward to this evening?"

Mary rolled her eyes and let out a breath. "You mean that god-awful party my parents have arranged with some poor unsuspecting bachelors?"

Isobel chuckled. "Oh, really, Mary, they are doing nothing of the sort. They just want to celebrate your birthday and invited some people your own age, most of whome you already know." Isobel held out a small, wrapped box. "Which leads me to this."

Mary eyed the item in her hand. "What's that?"

"Open it and find out! It's your birthday present."

Mary was grateful and touched. "Oh, Isobel, you shouldn't have done anything."

"Oh, pish-posh, Mary…now open it dear!" Isobel was bursting her buttons with excitement at the gift.

Mary smiled and took the tiny box and un-wrapped it. It was a black velvet jewelry box and when Mary opened it beautiful gems twinkled up at her. "Oh, Isobel!" They were emerald earrings; solitaires with diamond-trimmed emerald teardrops that dangled below. Mary touched her fingertips to them. "They are exquisite!"

"I'm so glad you like them! They were a gift from Reg to me when Matthew was born."

"Oh Isobel I couldn't…I shouldn't…" Mary was stunned at such a gift. Her eyes pricked with tears.

"Nonsense, of course you should. You're like a daughter to me—no, you are a daughter to me—and the mother of my grandson, and I want you to have them. Perhaps you can wear them this evening?"

Mary smiled up at her. "I would be honored."

Isobel rubbed her palms together and paused a moment. "Do you mind if I say something my dear?"

"Uh oh," Mary said playfully suspicious. "I think I hear a lecture coming on."

"Not really," Isobel said warmly. "It's just that, Matthew loved you very much. He was a lovely man who adored you. But he wouldn't want you to live an isolated life."

Mary admired the earrings before looking back up at Isobel. "Oh, Isobel, you know how it is. Afterall, you never met someone after Dr. Crawley."

Isobel blinked back at her. "Well, the fact is, I did."

Mary looked back up in shock…

….as did Matthew who stood up in front of the window, a surprised look on his face.

Isobel sat down on the corner of the bed. "His name was Edward Collier. Some friends of mine introduced us, and he was a wonderful man. He was successful and charming and handsome. Matthew adored him."

Matthew remembered Mr. Collier. They had met several years following his father's death. He had been tremendously kind to Isobel and him, and Matthew had admired him.

"Oh, Isobel. You've never mentioined this."

Isobel shrugged. "My son was my whole world and when Edward proposed to me I feared that if I accepted another man, Matthew would have felt betrayed." She thought about it for a moment and shrugged. "But it turned out I don't think that would have been the case at all. Because, you see, when I saw Matthew with Cousin Robert all those years later I realized how much Matthew had wanted a father…someone here that he could talk to and confide in. Not a replacement for Reginald, but a living father he could love all the same." She looked down at her hands in her lap. "And as it turns out, I would have liked to have had someone to love again as well."

Matthew stood watching in amazement…"_Oh, ma-ma_," he muttered. "_You dear beautiful woman_ _how alone you must have been."_

Isobel stood up and put a hand on Mary's shoulder. "I know Matthew was the love of your life." She spoke lovingly and with a little pride in her voice. "But just because he stopped living doesn't mean you should, too."

Mary sighed and spoke in a lost whisper. "He said that I would always be his Mary, for all eternity."

"And a part of you always will be, my dear. But keep your heart open. That's all I'm saying."

Mary stood up and patted Isobel's arm affectionately. "Thank you, Isobel, for your love and for the beautiful gift which I will treasure."

Matthew smiled on the ladies he had loved…."_Bravo Ma-ma...bravo_."

Suddenly Isobel and Mary were distracted by Matt in the doorway. "Hello, Ma-ma! Hello Grandma-ma!" The happy little boy bounced in to the room. He held a red apple in one hand while his other hand was behind his back.

Mary smiled but gave him a lecturing eye. "Matthew Crawley, what have I told you about eating and walking, young man? If you want to eat your apple you must do so sitting down."

Matthew rolled his eyes but smiled at Mary's maternal accord.

"I'm sorry, Mother," Matt said obediently standing in front of her. He grinned up at her mischievously.

Mary smiled down at him and smoothed his blond bangs from his forehead. "What is it my little apple dumpling?"

Matt giggled and suddenly brought his hand out from behind his back. To Mary's surprise her son proudly presented a bouquet of yellow roses. "Happy Birthday, Ma-ma!"

"Matthew!" Her hands flew up to her cheeks. "Where did you get those?"

He grinned bashfully. "It's a secret." He glanced over at Matthew by the window with a knowing smile.

Matthew smiled smugly and crossed his arms…._Nicely done, little chap. _

* * *

_**Post Script:** I think we need to see how Robert and Cora's birthday party for Mary goes, so stay tuned... :) _


	3. Chapter 3

Mary leaned slightly forward toward the vanity mirror admiring the emerald earrings Isobel had given her. The brilliant deep green twinkled in the evening light. The gems were obviously of the highest quality, which Mary loved; but what she loved more was the thought that Dr. Crawley had selected them and given them to Isobel as she lay in the hospital cuddling her new baby boy in her arms.

As Mary applied the finishing touches of powder and lipstick, she thought back on all the parties she had dressed for when she was younger. When she and Matthew were married, he would come in to her room and sit and wait for her, talking about the day or various guests they would be meeting that evening. On one occasion, after Anna had left, he stepped up behind Mary while she assessed herself in the full length mirror. Standing behind her, he murmured in her ear, "You look absolutely beautiful," and pressed his lips to her neck, trailing little kisses just under her hair, nuzzling her and breathing softly in to her ear.

"Matthew," she breathed out. Her eyes had slipped closed at the feel of his lips, while his hands slid around her waist. "We're due downstairs in ten minutes."

He moaned gently. "What I have won't last ten minutes."

She laughed and shooed him away, but later that evening at the dinner table, his eyes gazed at her from across the table. As he sipped his wine, he looked at her from under his brow, his eyes dark and hungry for her…taking her and claiming her with a raw, smoldering look. She had felt a slight perspiration on her palms, a flush on her décolletage and had to take a sip of ice water to temper her own desire.

After dinner, Mary secretly caught one of his fingers with one of hers, and led him out of the room. He followed her down the empty hallway toward the library, looking back over his shoulder to ensure no one had noticed. In the library, they crossed the large room, around to the reading area which was dark and secluded. She turned to face him and he continued forward until her back was up against the wall. He leaned the palms of his hands on the wood paneling and braced himself as he leaned toward her, covering her mouth with his. Mary's hands slid underneath the warmth of his dinner jacket, caressing him and pulling him up against her, their bodies pressed together. He kissed her with need and hunger, groaning with it as her hands lifted his cummerbund and unbuttoned his trousers.

Keeping one hand against the wall, his other hand dropped to her leg, cradling her thigh and raising it, causing her skirt to rise. He adjusted her undergarments as she aligned his body with hers so he could push in to the heavenly fist of her body. Within minutes she shuddered against him and he lost control, his body jerking against her, perspiration beading along his hairline, and the sound of his peak caught in his throat and followed by a deep, heavy groan as he released inside of her.

As he caught his breath again, Mary held him to her, hugging him and soothing her hands through his hair. She didn't whisper that she loved him because she felt she didn't need to…she had just shown him.

But now, in the present emptiness of her bedroom, she felt sorrow. Sorrow for never having told Matthew that she loved him and sorrow that she was alone in her room, and her life, with no one to follow her down secluded hallways anymore, or gazing at her over the table. She stood and looked in the full length mirror. At thirty three she was still beautiful and full of young womanhood—but with each birthday that passed that wouldn't always be the case. Were motherhood and Downton enough to sustain her for the rest of her life? If she lived to be as old as Granny Violet it would mean more than fifty years of life ahead of her. How many days and hours and minutes of that time would she be content to spend by herself?

She sighed at the thought that she would always be looking at her reflection alone.

* * *

"I do hope Mary doesn't wear another black gown," Cora huffed as she adjusted her long gloves. She and Robert were taking the last two steps of the grand stair case. "It's been over four years and the Pierce's are bringing her brother, an Army major." She leaned up to Roberts's ear and whispered. "_He's a bachelor_."

He was exasperated with his wife's incessant matchmaking. "Honestly, Cora, stop pressuring her. Mary is not a girl any longer. She is a mature woman, with a son, and who is helping to manage the estate. It's her birthday. All that matters to me is that she enjoys herself and mingles with some people her own age for a change. Her whole life is Downton and our grandson; I think she deserves a night off."

"Robert, might I remind you that the mourning period for Matthew ended over three years ago. Have you not noticed that Mary's social invitations have dried up to almost nothing? Other women her age are attending teas, dinner parties or going to concerts in London. But society does not include widows at parties unless they're relatives. And Matt won't always be a little boy. In a few years he'll be in school and when he goes away to university Mary will still only be forty six. Is it really your plan that our beauty live her years out alone at Downton taking care of us and the estate?" She shook her head. "My, how the tables have changed. Edith is our stylish London maven, while Mary remains cloistered like a nun in a house that has literally become an abbey."

Robert sighed and started to say something when his attention was distracted to the top of the stairs. Mary was making her way down, wearing a long pale cream satin evening gown with beads and sequins scattered down the front of it. She wore long cream gloves and her bobbed hair was swept to one side with a diamond barrette. And as she stepped off the last stair Robert could see that she wore a touch of cosmetics and red lipstick. He held his hands out to her. "How beautiful you look my darling."

These days, Mary only heard such compliments from her father, but she appreciated them all the same. "Thank you, Pa-pa. But I think you're biased."

Cora smiled in agreement. "Oh, Mary, I love you in that color. And I don't believe I've ever seen those earrings before. They're stunning."

She reached a hand up to ear. "They are my birthday present from Isobel. She said Dr. Crawley gave these to her when Matthew was born."

Robert smiled. "Well, they are splendid and so are you." He held his elbow out. "Shall we?"

Mary laughed and took his arm.

~~0~~

The drawing room was filled with well dressed people in evening attire. Gowns and tuxedos were milling about, and Mary dutifully greeted and chatted with as many guests as she could. Isobel had been right, she did know most of them and so far she hadn't been forced to pretend to be pleasant to some pathetic bachelor. She noticed Edith, who stood across the room in an elegant apricot colored gown. Mary had to admit it—the plain sister who she had always quarreled with looked wonderful. And unlike most women, Edith grew more beautiful as each year passed.

"Edith, I'm so glad you're here." She kissed her sister on the cheek and meant it.

Edith smiled. "Aside from celebrating your birthday, I'm here to bolster your defenses in case Ma-ma gets out of hand with her matchmaking attempts."

Mary exhaled. "It's laughable sometimes, but I know she means well."

Edith put an affectionate hand on Mary's arm. "How are you, really? Is everything alright with you and Matt?"

"Yes, yes, of course. But I'll be happy when this shindig is over so I can get back to our routine."

They suddenly noticed a man in a military mess kit with a scarlet jacket approaching from across the room. "Oh, lord," Mary sighed. "This must be one of Mother's charity cases coming over now."

Edith wasn't so sure. "Well, if he is, he's an incredibly handsome charity case."

Mary sipped her champagne and leaned toward Edith. "He probably has some boring story about a foreign posting to Hong Kong, or some such dreadful thing."

He was tall, taller than Matthew by an inch or two, with a slender build and broad shoulders. He had dark brown hair and Mary guessed him to be about her age. As he walked up to them he smiled, a bright and warmhearted smile, but what stood out for Mary were his riveting blue-grey eyes.

He stopped right in front of her in a formal diplomatic manner. "Good evening Lady Crawley. I know we haven't met but…"

Mary cut him off. "I don't mean to be rude, Captain…"

He blinked at her. "It's major, actually, and I don't mean to interrupt but I wanted to…"

Mary persisted. "Well I think we're just about to head in to the dining room in a moment or two so perhaps…."

He clasped his hands behind his back trying to get a word in. "…introduce myself and have a word. You see, I'm David Henleigh and…"

Mary attempted to gently brush him off and turned to Edith. "Should we get another glass of champagne before we go in to dine?"

"I knew your husband." His words seemed to stop time...floating out in the room like a ghost.

The major's comment took Mary by surprise. "Matthew? You knew my husband?"

He smiled slightly apologetically. "Yes, that's right. I apologize if I'm being too familiar, or imposing, but I just wanted to share with you that I knew Captain Crawley. He was a fine gentleman and an excellent officer. It was an honor to know him." David Henleigh was a professional military officer who stood straight and tall, with a commanding but friendly bearing.

Mary felt disarmed and suddenly embarrassed for misinterpreting the major's intent. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry….major?"

"Henleigh. David Henleigh." He smiled thoughtfully at her and then greeted Edith warmly with a hand shake.

Mary held her hand out. "Please forgive me, Major Henleigh. I'm Mary Crawley."

He shook her hand firmly and politely. "It's an honor Mrs. Crawley."

His comportment and mannerisms reflected experience with courtly protocol, yet Mary felt he was probably untitled and upper middle class. Possibly a military attaché at an embassy. "How did you know my husband?" She was genuinely interested.

"At the onset of the war," his voice was gentle and rich and kind, "regular officers, like me, were assigned to the wartime commissioned corps to help tutor them, so to speak, in the day to day trivia of an officer's duties. I was assigned as partner to Captain Crawley. We were both lieutenants at the time."

Mary smiled. "How nice." Her interest was piqued at the opportunity to talk about Matthew.

"Yes, it was." He continued. "And during his training period, my wife Emma and I hosted the captain for dinner on several occasions at our home. Probably not as resplendent as he was accustomed to, I'm afraid, but nevertheless we shared many delightful evenings and bottles of Bordeaux." His self deprecating humor was heartening.

Mary laughed. "Those were his favorite kinds of dinner parties, I can assure you, Major."

He chuckled with her. "I think we all got acquainted rather well. In Fact on one of his visits he gave my son, Charles, a cricket bat."

"Oh?"

"Yes, and it quickly became Charles' most prized possession. He used it all the time for practice and at his matches." His face was filled with happiness as he reiterated his son's joy.

Mary glanced around the room. "Is your wife with you this evening, Major? I'd love to meet her."

His expression changed in a way that Mary instantly recognized. "I'm afraid, not." He paused and spoke quietly. "I lost Emma, and our son, during the epidemic."

"Oh, Major Henleigh," she exhaled in grief and horror. It defied her to imagine what it would have been like if she had lost Matthew and their son at the same time. The grief would have swallowed her whole. "It seems I've managed to embarrass myself, and offend you, more than once this evening. I'm terribly sorry; I hope you can forgive me."

He smiled warmly. "Please don't apologize." He obviously meant it. "I should have mentioned that Emma was my late wife, but to be honest, I tend to forget to because I don't think of her that way. She's still in my heart and sometimes I feel like she has just stepped in to another room and might be back any moment….even though I know that is obviously not the case." He shrugged. "I know it sounds rather silly."

Mary stared at him and gripped her glass tighter. "I think I know precisely what you mean, Major."

He smiled at her knowingly and then decided to lighten their conversation. "Well, the real reason I stepped over, aside from sharing my acquaintance with your husband, is to present you with a birthday gift."

Mary's eyes brightened and her head straightened up. "A gift? Oh, really, major you needn't…"

He waved a hand up to politely stop her. "I know we're strangers, but, please, I hope you'll indulge me."

"Alright then, but only if you insist."

"Splendid!" Henleigh said as he held out an arm motioning for Mary to head toward the doorway. She did and he followed. Carson happened to notice, like a sentry, and went out behind them.

Carson spoke with concern. "I beg your pardon, Lady Crawley, but is there a problem I can assist with?"

Mary smiled at him. "No, no. Major Henleigh said he has a gift for me."

The butler straightened his posture and watched as the major stepped over to a corner and collected an object wrapped in brown wrapping paper. He handed it to Mary. "I'm sorry it isn't wrapped, but it's an odd shape."

Mary laughed and as the paper fell away she saw that it was a cricket bat.

Henleigh watched her carefully. "It's the bat your husband gave to my son. I know you and Captain Crawley have a son as well, and so I thought he might enjoy having something from his father." He reached out and turned it over in her hands. "Look here, you can see where Captain Crawley inscribed Charles' name, then signed and dated it."

Mary turned the bat over in her hands. She saw the names Charles Henleigh and Lt. Matthew Crawley and the date, December 17, 1914. "Oh, Major Henleigh. I couldn't possibly accept something that was a precious belonging of your son."

The major looked at the bat and then up at her. "It would bring me so much more joy knowing it is in the hands of a little boy again, rather than alone in a corner of an empty room."

Mary sighed and nodded. "I think I understand. I am deeply touched by your generosity and such a meaningful gift." She smiled up at him and clutched the bat a little tighter. "Would you like to meet my son?"

His eyes brightened. "Really? I'd be delighted... I didn't realize he's meeting guests"

She laughed. "He's not supposed to be, but he always loiters and hides whenever there is a party. He likes to spy on us."

Major Henleigh laughed as he followed her toward the saloon. "Is that his father in him?"

"Oh, heavens, no! He gets it from me. I was the party spy as a child." As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Mary called out. "Matthew?"

Suddenly over the second floor banister, Matt's blond head peeped up. He was dressed in dark blue and green plaid pajamas and a matching robe. "Yes, Ma-ma? I was just off to bed, I promise!"

"Yes, yes, I'm sure you were. Can you please come down for a moment? I'd like you to meet someone who has brought us a very special gift."

Henleigh sighed. "Heaven's, he's the spitting image of his father."

"Don't I know it?" They shared a laugh.

Matt walked down the stair case taking one step at a time and running his small hand along the railing. His eyes locked on Henleigh's red jacket and he looked up at him. "Are you a lion tamer, sir?"

Henleigh whispered down to him. "Only when I have to be."

"Matthew, I'd like you to meet Major Henleigh. He was a friend of your Pa-pa's in the Army."

Matt put his hand out. "Hello." He giggled as he said it.

Henleigh shook his hand and knelt down. "How do you do, Master Crawley." He patted the boy's shoulder and noticed the plaid fabric. "Ah, Black Watch plaid. The tartan of one of our finest regiments."

Matt stood up taller and patted the front of his robe. "The Army wears pajamas like I do?"

He laughed. "The Black Watch is a Highlander infantry regiment. Only the bravest soldiers can be in the Black Watch. Your pajamas are the same as their tartan."

Matt beamed and looked up at Mary. "I'm just like the soldiers, Ma-ma!"

"Yes, yes, you certainly are." Mary smiled down at him and held out the bat. "Matthew, Major Henleigh brought us this cricket bat. Your Pa-pa gave it to him, and now he's giving it to us. It's a very special gift."

"Can I play with it? Can I learn how to play cricket?" Matt jumped up and down.

Mary loved seeing the joy in his face. "Yes, we'll talk about it in the morning." She leaned down and whispered. "Can you say thank you to Major Henleigh?"

The boy turned to the major. "Thank you, sir!"

"You're welcome, young Crawley. I hope you have fun with it."

As Mary watched Matt's delight over the cricket bat, it touched her that both of her birthday presents were, in some way, linked to her son's father…she was still tethered to Matthew and felt comforted by it, and she sensed that he was near and knew it. And her parents had been right-it was a good feeling to mingle with old friends again, and to make new ones.

* * *

**A/N** Thank you to everyone for your reviews! As you can see, Matthew is still in Mary's life and heart, but I felt the introduction of a friend was nice for her, too. :)


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